Completely Addicted: Ch 10 and 11 added! Yay!
by Jocelyn Szmanda
Summary: People play Greg Sanders off, say he's a dork, say he just flirts to be funny. But after a while, all that flirting is bound to pay off. R/R please!!!
1. Breakfast?

            People don't give Greg Sanders nearly enough credit.  I know I didn't, anyway.  But when you meet him the first time, it's hard to.  He just seems so playful, so dorky, so…cute.  Everyone told me he was just a flirt, not to pay any attention to him, but within moments I found myself completely addicted to him, for lack of a better word.  This is how it all happened…

            "I need to take this to the lab," Jilaine said, staring at the evidence she had just bagged and tagged minutes before while processing on the scene.

            "Go ahead.  Greg's in tonight," Warrick said, his eyes not leaving an analysis of a hard drive from the vic's computer that Archie had just delivered.

            "I would, but I don't know where I'm going," she grinned sheepishly.

            "I'm sorry, I totally forgot.  That," he said and eyed her plastic bag that held a bloody shirt, "goes to DNA, which is out this door and to the left."

            "Thanks."  She walked down the hall, running a manicured hand through her curled blonde hair, and pulled open the heavy glass door.  A Social Distortion album was playing so loud that she flinched when the sound waves hit her ears.  A guy with insanely spiky sandy brown colored hair was playing air guitar in the corner as he printed out a reading.  An amused grin crossed her face as she stepped closer to him.  "Greg?" she asked, just loud enough for her voice to carry over the music.  He ran over to the stereo and turned it off, answering to his name before he turned to see who had called it.

            "I don't have anything of yours processed yet.  Griss loaded me down as soon as I got here."

            "I wouldn't think you did, especially since I've never turned anything in to be processed."  Greg's brown eyes widened as he turned to look at her.

            "You're not Sarah."

            "Can't say that I am."  He walked over to her and took the evidence, placing it on top of a disorganized pile.

            "Sorry about that whole…dancing thing.  I get a little carried away when Griss is gone."

            "I understand," she smiled.  She did.  She had only met him a few times since the interview, and on every single occasion he made her nervous.  Greg flashed her a crooked smile and a pleased expression.

            "It's nice to know that someone does."  Her eyes locked with his, and for a split second, she forgot why she was even in the room.  "So, you must be the new girl," he said, breaking the silence.

            "Yeah, I suppose so.  Jilaine Robertson," she said and held out her hand.

            "Greg Sanders," he said and accepted it, then lifted it to his lips.  As he placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand, her jaw dropped.

            "Greg, give it up already," Catherine smirked as she entered the room.  "It's not going to work on her either."

            "Worth a try," he shrugged.  She checked on her evidence, which hadn't been processed yet either, and grinned at Jilaine, leaning over to whisper in her ear.

            "Don't let him get to you," she said quietly.  Jilaine nodded and watched Greg as Cath left the room.  He crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth, then blushed when he realized he was being watched.

            Jilaine giggled with a shake of her head and eyed his pile of processing.  "So, am I going to get that back this month, or…" she grinned.

            "You'll have it tonight, probably within a couple of hours."  He was glad for the distraction from his dorky self.  She nodded and headed for the door.  Before he knew what he was saying, he stopped her.  "Hey."

            "Yeah?" she asked, stopping in her tracks and turning around to look at him.

            "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

            "After I get off?"  He nodded his head in reply.  "No, I don't know anyone out here.  My only date I have is the one with my bed."  He chuckled and played with a marker cap in his pocket.

            "Want to go get some breakfast or something?"

            "Sure, that sounds good."  She flashed a smile at him for the first time and all the blood rushed to his head.  It literally made him dizzy.  "I'll come check on that in a little while."  He watched her walk out and stood completely still for a moment, letting his mental pictures of every visible inch of her body sink into his memory.  He went back to processing, but his mind stayed with Jilaine, wherever she had ran off to.


	2. Overenthusiasm

            "Jilaine," Warrick repeated for the fourth time.

            "Yeah?" she said, shaking her head to bring her back to reality.

            "Where have you been?  I've been trying to explain this pattern to you for a good two minutes."

            "Sorry," she blushed.  "I completely spaced out.  You've got me now."  He rehashed his explanation for the third time and she nodded.  "So the blow was to the back of the head, not the front of the head as we had pictured."

            "Right."  He opened a file and read through a new reading from Archie, then looked up at her, still somewhat clueless in adapting to her new job straight out of college.  "Why don't you go see if Greg has our processing done?" he offered, noticing her clueless expression.

            "Sure!"  _That was a little overenthusiastic_ she thought.

            "Okay," Warrick said, an odd look on his face.  She walked down to the lab, practically hopping her way there, and pulled the door open giddily.

            "Hey Greg," she greeted, sitting in the chair next to his.

            "Hey," he grinned.  "Come for your groom?"

            "Come for my evidence."

            "Aww, come on."

            "Greg, the readings," she said, maintaining a serious countenance, but unable to avoid her blush.

            "Okay, here you go.  And in my usual manner, I will present them in some way found completely inappropriate and annoying."  He grabbed the sheets of paper from the printer and held them just out of her reach.  "What'll you do for them?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.

            "What kind of a question is that?"

            "A fair one.  Just answer it."

            "Just give me the readings," she sighed.

            "I'll trade you."

            "For what?"

            "For…"  He searched his brain for a quick answer, and when he found one, a huge grin crossed his lips.  "A kiss."

            "You've got to be kidding me."

            "Nope, sorry."  She stared at him blankly and he held her gaze then looked away awkwardly.  "Okay, you don't have to," he mumbled.  She scanned her face with his eyes and could tell she had hurt his feelings, or at least his pride.  

            "Greg," she started softly.

            "No, you don't have to explain.  I shouldn't have said that."  He handed her the readings and stood up, walking over to his scanning machine.  She felt her heart sink to the floor.  She hadn't meant anything by taking so long; she was just in shock.  Without even a single glance at her readings, she stood and walked over to where he was, resting her hand over his.

            "You should always say what you're thinking."  She placed a soft kiss on his cheek and without another word, walked out of the lab.  Yet again he found himself watching her leave a room.

            "That woman is going to be the death of me," he mumbled and ran a hand through his messy hair.


	3. Pajamas and McDonald's

            Jilaine's shift ended at 5:30.  She was exhausted, but excited.  Not to mention hungry.  She spent a couple of minutes in front of the mirror perfecting her hair, then walked down to the lab.  "Ready to go?" she asked with a confident smile.

            "Oh God, Jilaine, I'm sorry," Greg answered, standing up from a microscope.  "Grissom and Nick just loaded me down and I promised I'd finish this before I left."

            "No biggie, I can wait," she offered.

            "It's going to take a couple of hours."

            "Oh."  The disappointed look on her face broke his heart.  He had figured that cancelling wouldn't bother her any, since she had probably only said yes to keep from hurting his feelings.  There was no way a woman like her would be attracted to him.

            "Can we go tomorrow?  I take rainchecks."

            "Yeah, sure."  She stared at her shoes as she spoke.  "I'm pretty tired anyway."

            "Yeah."  He watched her leave and let out a heavy sigh as he turned back to his processing.

            Jilaine entered her apartment a few minutes later, locking the door behind her and staring at the boxes piled up in the living room.  She had never felt so alone.  After growing up in a small town in Wisconsin and being surrounded by all her friends and family for years, Vegas felt so big and so lonely.  She kicked her shoes off and sat on the couch, unpacking a box at a time until she fell asleep with one in her lap.

            The shrill sound of her cell phone ringing to a Michael Jackson song hit her ear drums like an alarm clock.  Her eyes half open, she reached into her pocket and grabbed the phone.  "Hello?" she mumbled.

            "Jilaine?" Greg's voice asked.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up.  I can -"

            "No, it's okay."  She sat up and rubbed her eyes, moving the box from her lap to the floor.  "Do you need something?"

            "No, not really."  He paused, then added, "And I got this number from the work listing, I promise I'm not stalking you or anything."  She grinned, but before she could reply he continued.  "I was just wondering if you still wanted that breakfast."

            "What time is it?" she asked, glancing at her watchless wrist.

            "Almost nine."  She let out a huge yawn and he laughed quietly.  "It was just a goofy idea, we can wait until another day."

            "No, I want to."  She glanced down at her wrinkled khakis and let out a groan.  "But I need some time to change."

            "No, don't worry about it.  I'm in my pajamas already.  I could just go get something and bring it to you."  She looked around the room and groaned again.

            "This place is a mess, Greg."

            "I don't care."  With a shake of her head, she gave him her order and directions, then changed into her pajama pants and a camisole, making sure her hair was pulled back and her makeup was cleaned up before he got there.  When there was a knock at the door, she hopped up and, after a pause to maintain her composure, opened it slightly.  "Hey," he grinned sheepishly, holding a McDonald's bag and wearing plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt.

            "Come on in," she greeted and opened the door wider.  He kicked off his sandals and walked around the living room slowly to take in the view.

            "This is a great place," he said as he looked around.  When he walked past her, she snatched the McDonald's bag and sat on the couch.  "Hey!"  He pounced onto the couch next to her and tickled her sides furiously.  "You stole my breakfast!"

            "I just want half!" she squeaked between giggles.

            "Oh.  Well, I guess I should stop tickling you then," he said, his hands slowly pulling away from her sides.  "Nah, I don't think I want to."

            "Aah!" she squealed, grabbing for his hands and squirming to get away from him.  During all the pushing and tickling that ensued, they somehow ended up in an awkward position.  She was laying down and he was lying on top of her, holding her wrists up on either side of her head to prevent her from stopping him, but essentially had stopped himself.  "You must be a kinky one, Greg," she grinned after they recognized their positions.

            "I can be," he shrugged.  "Depends on the girl."

            "What about a little Wisconsin girl who somehow got sent to work in the city of sin?"

            "Is she kinky?" he asked, staring right into her eyes.

            "Can be.  Depends on the girl."  He smirked, then caught what she had said.

            "The girl?!"  She cracked up as he raised an eyebrow.

            "I was just messing with you."

            "I was just going to ask if you had pictures," he grinned.


	4. Bravery and Swinging Hips

            "You have no idea how long it's been since I've had a day off," Greg sighed over the phone after learning that Jilaine had been given her first day off, the following Saturday.

            "Three weeks and two days.  You've told me four times in the past five minutes," Jilaine grinned, glancing at the clock in her Tahoe as she drove home from another day of work.  "Can't you just ask?"

            "I'm scared to," he admitted.  "I never know what Grissom's going to say to me."

            "Want me to?"

            "No.  That would make it look like I was scared of him."  After a long pause, she commented.

            "You are, Greg."

            "Shut up," he laughed.  She heard his car brake and noticed the sudden lack of loud music blasting through her cell phone.  

            "Are you home already?"

            "Nope.  I'm at your place."  She had to admire the bravery in that.  The day before he had brought breakfast, then ended up staying and talking for hours.  There wasn't a thing she didn't know about him.  Well, there was one.  She didn't know what to expect next.  "I'm cooking you dinner."

            "Oh, you think so?"

            "Yep."

            "I don't know, I was thinking that I wanted to cook for you."

            "Too bad.  Do it tomorrow."  She laughed as she entered the parking lot and pulled in next to him.  

            "It's a good thing I like you, Sanders."

            "Oh, so now you like me?"  She had to blush as she reached for her CD wallet.  How could anyone not like him?  He was funny, smart, energetic, worked his ass off, and actually had a great ass.

            "You're okay, I guess.  For a lab tech."

            "I'll have you know that being on the scene is not all it's cracked up to be."

            "I already heard what happened when you went out into the field."

            "Oh yeah?  How I solved the case?"

            "No, how you threw up."  He flashed her car a wicked look, since he couldn't see her face as she looked behind her seat for something, and let out a tiny little smile.  He hadn't expected to like her as much as he did.  Physically, wow.  She had long blonde hair that looked different every time he saw her, blue eyes that he swore saw straight through him, and hips that he was convinced she knew how to use.  But there was more to her than that.  Even though she cracked the typical lab tech jokes, he knew she didn't care.  Most of the other CSIs, they all saw him as Greg the Lab Tech, or Greg the Guy who Processes Our DNA Evidence, but her…she saw him differently.  To her, he was just Greg Sanders, the dorky but adorable guy who had befriended her when she knew no one else around.  He was a friend.  He prayed it was more than that.

            "I did not throw up," he lied, hanging up the phone as they both exited their vehicles.  "That's just something Nick made up."

            "Because Nick has nothing better to do with his free time than make up stories about you?" she asked, her eyes glittering with humor.

            "Exactly.  That still makes him better than you though."

            "Excuse me?"

            "At least he doesn't sit around wondering what I would look like naked."

            "Please, I don't do that."

            "Right, just like I've never thought that about you."

            "Now that I know is a lie," she laughed.

            "How so?"

            "You already suggested yesterday that you wanted to see me naked."

            "When was this and where was I?" he asked, a crooked grin and false dazed look on his face.

            "This was after breakfast, and you were sitting on my couch.  I said you needed a shower and you said you would only take one if I went with you."

            "That was just a desperate attempt to get laid." 

            "You said it, I didn't."  He stopped to look at her, thinking of something really funny or wicked to say, but came up blank.  She had continued walking with a huge grin plastered on her face that he couldn't see.  However, he could see her hips swinging with just a little more sexuality than she used in the halls at work.  Not that he had watched her when he was supposed to be working or anything.  

            "I have got to get with her," he mumbled to himself as he watched her take a couple of stairs, then jogged over to catch up.


	5. Chicken Parmigiana Kisses

            "So what do you want for dinner?" Greg asked as he sifted through the fridge.

            "Whatever you can salvage, if you're looking through my fridge," Jilaine grinned as she entered the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe.

            "I could go get something.  The grocery store's open."  He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and shuffled through the bills, counting his money in his head.

            "You owe me twenty bucks."

            "Oh.  Here."  He held out a twenty-dollar bill and she laughed.

            "Just take me to dinner sometime."  He looked up at her with a crooked grin.

            "Are you asking me out, Robertson?"

            "Absolutely."  He looked through her fridge again, then shut it.

            "I'm making a run, you want anything?"

            "Just whatever you're going to make.  Oh, and some Vanilla Coke."  He laughed softly and walked past her to leave, then walked backwards until he was standing in front of her.

            "Are you going to let me back in?" he teased.

            "Maybe," she shrugged.  "If you're a good boy."

            "Nah, you like it when I'm bad."

            "I don't even know what you're like when you're bad," she laughed as he opened the door.

            "Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough," he smirked as he shut the door behind him.  He came back twenty minutes later.

            "Who is it?" she teased when he knocked.

            "Superman," Greg answered with a grin.  She opened the door and eyed him.

            "Where's your cape?"

            "In the car.  I'm incognito," he said, his eyes shifting to look down the hallway for anyone who might recognize a superhero in disguise.

            "Hmm.  Well, I guess it's okay."  She followed him into the kitchen and hopped up onto the counter to watch him cook.  "Whatcha making?" she asked and peered into the brown paper grocery bag.

            "Chicken parmigiana."  She raised an eyebrow and watched in intrigue as he prepared the dish and popped it in the oven.  "Now we have to kill an hour," he said as he glanced at the wall clock that read 8:23.

            "I have an idea," she began, but was cut off before she could continue.

            "So do I," Greg said softly and stepped in front of her.  Her eyes widened then closed as he leaned over and softly brushed his lips against hers.  He pulled away and locked his eyes with hers, silently asking for her permission to do it again.  She didn't have to answer.  He grazed his lips over hers again, creating a rash of goosebumps all over her body, then took her lower lip between his.

            The feeling was intoxicating.  She touched her hands to his face and he inched closer, resting his body weight against the counter.  His kissing moved from soft brushes to gentle concrete kisses as he threaded her hair between his fingers.  She smiled against his lips as he pulled away from her.  "Hi," he said softly as he scanned her eyes with his own.

            "Hey," she replied, her voice cracking as she spoke.  She took a moment to let her eyes drift down his body then wander back up, drinking in the way he looked at that very moment.  He watched her eyes, a grin crossing his lips, and placed another soft kiss on her lips before stepping away from her to glance in the oven at his chicken.  He excused himself to use the restroom and as soon as he was out of her sight she let out a shaky sigh.  _He's good_ she thought as she stared at the doorframe, waiting for the presence of his body to match the scent of his lingering cologne in the room.  _Very good._


	6. Insecurities

Greg's head peered around the door. The crooked grin on his face showed he was up to something, but what it was, Jilaine didn't know. "Come here." She followed him into her living room and watched as he sat down on the couch.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly.

"Sit down." She sat next to him and he scratched at his head. "We have a slight problem here."

"What's that?"

"A problem? Well, it's when things come up that contradict what you expected to happen, thus leaving you in a complete state of surprise and completely unprepared."

"Greg, I know what a problem is. What's our problem?"

"We work too much," he answered with a grin, shaking his head. "And we work with Grissom. It's enough to make anyone crazy."

"Tell me what the problem is!" she laughed.

"Maybe this should wait until after dinner," he began, his voice trailing off as his eyes scanned the room.

"Talk to me," she said softly. "You can tell me, whatever it is."

"I…umm…have a girlfriend."

"Yeah, right, stop playing." The grin on his face gave him away instantly.

"Why is it so hard to believe that I would have a girlfriend?"

"It's not, it's hard to believe that you would cheat on one." He blushed and stared at her shoes. "So what's this big problem we have?"

"For starters, I like you."

"And that's a problem how?"

"Because. I'm terrible at relationships. Girls always assume different things about me or think I'm something I'm not."

"And what do you think they are?" she asked and reclined against the back of the couch.

"This goofy lab tech guy. Which, I mean, for all intensive purposes I am, but I have other qualities too, you know."

"I know," she said softly.

"Or they think that because I'm funny, I'm not smart, or because I'm smart, I'm cocky, or because I'm fuzzy and adorable, that I'm not sexy." She glanced up to see if he was joking, but it was painfully clear that he wasn't.

"I don't think any of that about you, Greg." She paused carefully to choose her words. "You are funny, you are smart, you are fuzzy and adorable, and you are sexy. You're a multi-layered person."

"Thank you. I don't know, I guess I just don't trust relationships. Or myself in relationships." He paused and added, "Or women in relationships." A tiny grin escaped her lips and she reached for his hand, interlocking their fingers.

"I'm not asking you to trust me right off the bat. That's impossible. But I do like you. I really do. And I wouldn't intentionally do anything to jeopardize that." He nodded silently and she scooted closer to him, kissing his shoulder through his shirt. With an afterthought, she added, "Besides, you're a really good kisser," and peeked up at him with a grin.

"You don't even know the half of it," he said quietly with a smirk and locked his eyes with hers.

"Will I find out?"

"Definitely." He glanced at his watch then the kitchen. "Dinner should be almost ready, I'm going to go check." She nodded and curled up into the corner of the couch, watching him pull the chicken out of the oven through the doorframe. He had mentioned all that before, that he had never really been taken seriously by women, but she had no idea he was that insecure about it. She decided at that moment that she would be the one to finally take him seriously. She was going to figure out Greg Sanders if it was the last thing she did.


	7. Stay the Night

            Dinner went well, even though it was breakfast time when they were done eating.  "You are an amazing cook," Jilaine sighed as she flopped onto the couch, spreading over the length of it tiredly.

            "Thanks," Greg said, eyeing her as she stretched.  "Don't even leave any room for me," he laughed as he sat on her stomach.

            "Greg, get up!" she whined in a strained voice.  "I just ate!"

            "Then scoot over!"

            "No!"  He stood, giving her the evil eye, and she slowly sat up in response to his stare.  He sat behind her and reached up to her shoulder.

            "You can lay back down."  She adjusted carefully, resting her head on his lap, and closed her eyes as he began to comb his fingers through her hair.  "What on earth made a woman like you agree to go out with me?" he asked softly.  Noting his tone, she pushed back her smartass answer of "I didn't know any better."

            "You seemed really sweet.  And you were obviously smart, since you worked in the lab."  She glanced up at him and smiled as she added, "And your eyes."

            "My eyes?  What about them?"

            "They have this glimmering quality, like there's a lot going on behind them.  Big puppy dog eyes."  She paused and added, "Besides, I walked in on you playing air guitar to Social Distortion.  I myself play the air bass, so I was thinking maybe we could start a band."

            "I play air drums too, you know," he said informatively.

            "Rock 'n roll," she grinned.  He twirled a piece of her hair around his finger and smiled.

            "What did you do before you came here?"

            "School.  University of Wisconsin."

            "Did you work?"

            "Yeah," she said with a laugh.  "I was a Hooters girl."

            "Are you serious?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

            "Yep.  It was a great job, except for the rare occasion when a patron got a little too drunk.  Other than that, I loved the girls and loved the tips.  It's not very often that a waitress can make what I did."

            "How long did you work there?"

            "Three years.  What about you, did you work in school?"

            "No, I didn't have to.  I was one of the lucky ones."

            "Did you date a lot?" she asked curiously.

            "More than I do now, that's for sure.  It was a lot easier in college.  Everyone's schedule is more similar.  Not that it's hard to meet people in the middle of the night in Vegas, but they're generally people you really don't want to know…or tourists."  He twisted her hair into random designs as he talked.  "You probably dated a lot, too."

            "I did okay," she shrugged.  "A football cheerleader that works at Hooters certainly gets her opportunities."

            "Did you ever go to class?" Greg joked.

            "I had to.  Cheerleading didn't take me out of anything since we practiced so early and most of the games were on Saturdays, and I only worked in the evenings and on Sundays.  It all worked out."

            "How'd you have time to date?" he asked with a shake of his head.

            "Doesn't matter," she grinned.  "None of them were nearly as cute as you."  She paused and looked up at him, watching him as he watched her.  "Hey Greg?" she asked quietly.

            "Hmm?" he responded as he traced her jaw line with his fingertip.

            "Do you want to stay the night?"  He shifted his eyes over to hers, searching them to find the connotation of her words.  Almost knowing what he was looking for, she shook her head a little.  "I could use a cuddle buddy."  A smile slowly crossed his face and he nodded.

            "I think I know someone who could do that for you."

            "Warrick?" she asked hopefully, her eyes lighting up as a wicked grin crossed her face.

            "That's just mean," he laughed.  "But yeah, I'll stay."  Jilaine stood and took his hand, pulling him up as she headed for the bedroom.  "What do you sleep in?" he asked with a crooked grin as she pulled the bedroom door shut behind them.

            "My bed," she grinned.

            "I meant your clothes," he said and rolled his eyes.  "Or lack thereof."

            "Honestly, I usually sleep nude, but for you tonight, I'll make an exception."

            "Oh, thank you," he said sarcastically as he unbuckled his belt.  "Any rules for me?"

            "Not that I can think of."  He pulled off his jeans as she dug through her dresser for her favorite pajama set.  "I can't find anything in this place yet," she groaned as she opened another drawer.  Locating it, she slipped into the bathroom to quickly change.  When she reappeared, she was wearing a baby pink camisole and fitted boycut shorts.  Greg was sprawled out on top of her sheets in smiley face boxers.  "Those are impressive," she said with a laugh.

            "So are you," he said softly.  She blushed a little and he grinned.  "I feel like I'm in a terrible Cinemax porn with a sorority girl crawling into my bed."  She cracked up as she slipped under the covers.

            "Keep dreaming, Greg."

            "I don't have to."  He gently kissed her, varying the pressure at the appropriate times, and brushed his hand over the small segment of bare stomach she was revealing.  "Good night, Jilaine," he whispered into her ear.

            "Night, Greg," she softly replied and cuddled closer to him.  He watched her until he was absolutely sure she was asleep, then with a kiss to her temple, cozied under the covers and adjusted himself for a few hours of rest.


	8. Morning View

            The next afternoon, Greg opened his eyes slowly, squinting from the amount of sunlight that her large window let in the room.  He reached over for her and instead got a handful of her crisp navy blue cotton sheet.  "Jilaine?" he asked and propped himself up on his elbows to scan the room through squinted eyes.

            "I'm out here," she said through the screen door to the balcony.  He stretched as he stood and stumbled his way over to the door.

            "What are you doing?" he asked in a scratchy voice, leaning his arm on the doorway.

            "Sitting."  He noticed she was seated on a black wrought iron bench and was wrapped up in a blanket.  He slid the door open and padded onto the balcony, sitting next to her on the bench and borrowing a corner of her blanket.  He looked out at the view and smiled.

            "Wow, this must have jacked up your rent."  She had a view of the outskirts, most specifically the mountains, and was up high enough in the building that it added an incredible perspective.  "This is amazing."

            "I come out here to think," she said softly and curled up more under the blanket.

            "What are you thinking about today?"

            "You, mostly."  She absentmindedly watched as he used his hand to toy with hers, gently grazing his fingertips over her palm.  "Are you hungry?"

            "Wait, what are you thinking about me?" he laughed.

            "I don't know.  Nothing specific, just you."  She looked up at him with a little shrug and he fought back a yawn.  "You can go back to sleep if you want."

            "What time is it?"  She ducked her head under the blanket to glance at her watch.

            "12:32."

            "I have to work at three."  She groaned softly and shifted her body in the opposite direction so she was rested against him instead of the arm of the bench.  He smiled a little and adjusted an arm onto her shoulders, letting his hand stroke her hair.  "What, you don't work today?"

            "No, I do, I had just forgot until you said that."

            "Sorry to dredge up such painful memories," he teased.

            "Sure you are."

            "I am!"  She peeked up at him and after analyzing his facial expression, nodded. 

            "Okay, I can accept that."  She paused as his right hand took over where the left had left off, playing with her fingers.  "Think it's too fast?"

            "Yeah," he nodded.  "But that's why I trust it."  She sighed quietly and picked tiny fuzzies off the blanket.  He placed a soft kiss on her temple and closed his eyes to take in the scent of her hair, opening them again to look out over the mountains.  He felt a rumble in his stomach and grinned crookedly.  "Actually, to answer your earlier question, I am pretty hungry."  She laughed and lightly scratched over his stomach, the feeling of the friction between their skin giving them both goosebumps.  She turned her head toward his neck and took in a quiet breath through her nose before placing a soft kiss on the crook of his neck.  She scooted her waist closer to his and kissed down to his collarbone, her lips collapsing around it, and slowly dragged them off.

            "You taste just as good as you smell," she said in a soft purr.  His eyes closed and he placed his hands on either side of her hips to pull her onto his lap, adjusting the blanket around them after she was comfortable.

            "If you taste as good as you smell, it's going to be one hell of a day," he mumbled as his lips brushed over hers.  She shivered under the covers and rested her hands on his pecs comfortably.  She pulled his bottom lip between hers and gently sucked on it, her fingertips lightly scratching over his skin.  He pulled away for a split second, just long enough to gaze into her eyes, then placed a trail of soft concrete kisses up her jawline to the sweet spot just below her ear.  The tip of his tongue flashed out from between his lips and flickered over her skin.  He immediately felt the reaction of the goosebumps that attacked her skin and used them as a guide, following them down her collarbone and up to the hollow of her neck, filling in the curve of the bone with his lips.  "Vanilla," he murmured sweetly.

            "Hmm?" she asked in a scratchy voice.

            "You taste like vanilla."  She locked her eyes on his and stared into them before letting out a soft sigh.

            "How about that breakfast?"

            "All we do is eat," he grinned.

            "It seems like it, doesn't it?"  She combed her fingers through his hair, leaving it even messier than usual, and left a soft kiss on his forehead.  "Come on, I'll cook."

            "Only if I can watch."  

            "I think that can be arranged."  He placed his hands on her hips again as if he were going to help her up then left them there with a crooked grin.  "What now, Sanders?"

            "I was thinking that it's not good to eat before you swim, so it might not be good to eat before you take a shower."

            "What on earth made you think of that?" Jilaine laughed.

            "I was thinking about you in the shower," he shrugged.

            "While you were in the shower or thinking about me taking a shower?"

            "Do I look like I've taken a shower?" he grinned and ran a hand through his hair.  "I suppose a combination of both of those, though."  She gave him a blank look that indicated he needed to continue his explanation.  "I was thinking about you taking a shower, but you were taking that shower while I was in the shower."  She stared at him blankly for another couple of seconds then wriggled her eyebrows playfully.

            "Let's go, soldier."  It was his turn to give her a blank stare.  "Greg," she said calmly, "it's not every morning I'm going to offer to hop in the shower with you, so you might just want to take me up on it without thinking too long."

            "Soldier?" was all he could muster to comment.

            "Because you're standing at attention."  She flashed him a wicked grin and stood up, leaving him the blanket and sauntering in the house.  He watched her leave somewhat mindlessly then hopped up and followed her path inside the glass doors, tripping over the track that stuck up off the ground not even an inch.  He mumbled something at it, cursing under his breath, then remembered where he was headed and let the huge grin come back over his face as he headed for the bathroom.


	9. A Pound of Chicken and a Trip to the Zoo

            The next night, Jilaine let herself in her apartment to find an already sleeping Greg on the couch.  Before leaving work that morning, she had given him a key to her apartment.  He was going to be there anyway, so he might as well not have to wait for her to let him in.  She kicked her shoes off, padded into the kitchen and warmed up some leftover chicken parmigiana, and sat in the recliner across from the couch to eat.  

            "Something smells good," Greg said, his voice muffled through the pillow.

            "Your chicken," she answered softly.

            "I meant you.  I can smell that vanilla stuff you wear."  He smiled as he rolled over onto his back and added, "Actually, I can smell it at work, too.  If you come in the lab the scent lingers for awhile."  She grinned crookedly and took another bite of chicken.

            "Want some dinner?"

            "No, I'm just going to crash.  I think I might go home, actually."

            "Why?"

            "Because I'm paying rent, so I might as well sleep there every once in awhile," he grinned.  "I figured you need your personal space."

            "No, not really."  He laughed softly and rubbed his eyes, then scratched at his hair.  

            "Want to go with me?"

            "After I eat," she nodded.  He stood and wandered into the kitchen, locating a pitcher of cherry Kool-Aid and pouring himself a glass.  

            "Is that good reheated?" he asked and pointed at her plate.

            "Mmhmm," she mumbled with a mouthful.  He grinned and ambled tiredly over her way, getting down on his knees in front of her.  "Whatcha doing?" 

            "Getting a kiss from my favorite girlfriend."

            "As opposed to your other girlfriends that aren't your favorites?"

            "Yep."  He took her lips in a kiss and she laughed softly against him.

            "You're a terrible liar."

            "I know."  After she finished eating and changed clothes, they hopped in his Tahoe and he drove to his apartment.  "Welcome to my humble abode," he grinned as he opened the door.  "I'll give you the Tour de France."

            "Greg, that's a bike race."

            "I know," he defended with a pout.  "It just sounded cooler than me saying, 'I'll take you around my apartment and show you where everything's at.'"  She grinned and followed him around as he led her through.

            "I like the whole…blue…thing you have going."  He shook his head calmly and pointed to a corner of his bedroom.

            "See?"  She glanced up and saw a mural of the ocean in the space between his dresser and closet door.

            "Oh wow, that's incredible.  Did you do that?"

            "Pssh, no.  My sister did.  I can't even draw stick people."

            "That's odd.  You seem artistic," she said, eyeing him through slitted eyes.

            "Don't look at me like that!" he laughed.  "I honestly can't draw."

            "No, I believe you."  She grinned at him with a twinkle in her eyes and he eyed her.

            "I don't believe that you believe me."  She stared at him silently before he broke a smile.  "We are the weirdest couple to ever exist."

            "Nah, I don't think so.  I don't get Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie."  He snort laughed and picked her up, wrapping his arms around her waist.

            "You're the cutest thing ever, Jilaine."

            "I know," she sighed.  He cracked up and set her on his bed.

            "I think you need some sleep."

            "I really don't think so."

            "I do."

            "I don't."  He growled playfully and pounced on her, pushing her back onto the bed.

            "Well you at least need some rest."

            "You being all growly like that is not going to make me tired," she said and shook her head.  "The last thing I think of when you do that is sleeping."  He raised his eyebrow for a split second, then growled at her again.  "I'm warning you, it's going to be a long night," she said in a singsong voice.

            "I have no problem with that," he growled.  "I don't work until four tomorrow."  She let out a giggle and as he leaned in to kiss her, his stomach roared at him.  "That is just embarrassing," he grinned sheepishly.

            "Go eat, Greg."

            "Want anything?"

            "I just ate a pound of chicken.  Thanks though."  While he heated up leftover Taco Bell, she freshened up and made herself comfortable on his couch.  "Hey, I forgot to tell you, I got you that day off next Saturday."

            "What?" he asked with a mouthful of soft taco.

            "I asked Grissom," she shrugged.  "He said that since you hadn't had a day off in so long, it was absolutely fine for you to take Saturday off to go to the zoo with me."

            "The zoo?" he asked with a laugh.

            "Yep.  We're studying the mating rituals of warm-blooded animals."  

            "You actually told him that?"

            "I'm not that stupid, Greg.  But I did tell him we were going to the zoo."

            "Are we actually going to the zoo?"

            "It wasn't in the plans," she grinned.  "Unless you're into studying the mating rituals of a random animal in comparison to those of humans."

            "No, no, I don't need to compare anything," he smirked.  "I know how everything works."

            "That you do."


	10. Bonding with Sara and Greg's Chair

The next day at work, Jilaine was piecing a broken window back together to find the point of impact on the same case she had started her first day. Not all cases can be solved in an hour.

"What's this I hear about you and Greg?" Nick asked with a grin and leaned against the doorframe.

"What did you hear?" she asked and spun around in her chair.

"I heard you fell for his goofy charm."

"Couldn't help myself," she smiled.

"Consider yourself lucky. As much as we mess with him, he's a great guy."

"I know."

"And he got the hottest CSI to walk these halls since Catherine."

"Ahem," Sara said as she brushed past Nick to enter the room.

"And Sara," he added promptly.

"Thank you." Jilaine grinned and glanced at her window.

"This is taking forever," she groaned.

"Maybe you need some Greg love," Nick teased as he walked away. All of the guys in the lab were great. They had welcomed her openly and warmly, always making her feel like part of the team, part of the family, albeit a very dysfunctional one. Warrick and Nick were her brothers, Grissom the father, and Catherine the mother. Sara seemed really nice, very strong willed, and incredibly smart, but she was the only one that hadn't opened up to her. _Everything takes time_ Jilaine thought. 

"So what do you think?" she asked and glanced up at Sara who was standing over the window.

"Looks like the break was here," she answered and directed to the area. "Could have been a bullet."

"I thought about that, but I wondered if something different wasn't going on. I mean, I know the girl was shot, but she was shot in the other direction. It was said the vic was shot in the abdomen with the exit wound in her back, but every theory we have has her facing the window. If she was shot like that, the bullet would have been in one of the walls, not through the window."

"Very true. I'll go check the walls again." Jilaine nodded and glanced up from the glass.

"Hey, you want to go out tonight? Get some drinks?"

"Sure," Sara shrugged. She headed for the door to go to the scene of the crime and grinned. "But leave Greg at home." Jilaine shook her head with a laugh and walked to the lab.

"Hey," she greeted Greg as she walked in.

"Hey you," he said as he glanced up from a microscope. "What's up?"

"Wanted to see you. Oh, and Sara and I are going out tonight, is that okay?"

"Sure it is. Anything to turn in?"

"Nope." She watched him stare into the scope, his goggles hanging on the back of his neck and hair all messy, and couldn't help but grin. He seemed to make her do that a lot. "You are so cute," she said and kissed the top of his head, ruffling up his hair.

"Isn't he though?" Catherine teased as she came in. "Do you have my DNA?"

"Yeah, it's right here," he said and rolled his chair over to another table, rolling over Jilaine's foot in the process.

"Ow!" she whined and grabbed her toes.

"Greg!" Catherine admonished and walked over to observe her foot. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, a little embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," Greg said and rolled his chair over to her. She flashed him a death stare.

"You get that chair within a foot of me and I'll kill you." Catherine laughed under her breath and watched as Greg whimpered.

"Oh no, the puppy dog eyes," she observed.

"You get them too?" Jilaine grinned and rubbed her toes again.

"Seven epithelials," Catherine read. "Thanks Greg. Don't kill your girlfriend."

"I'll try not to." He stood from his chair and looked down at her foot. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Thanks."

"I'm sorry." He traced his fingertips down her jawline then brushed a strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear. 

"It's okay." She looked up into his brown eyes and sighed softly. "You're still cute." He grinned and placed a tiny kiss on her lips before walking back over to his microscope.

"So what inspired you going out with Sara? I thought she was the one person that wasn't really talking to you."

"She's not. Or wasn't. I don't know. I was thinking about it while we were looking at that window I've been working on and I thought it would be a good idea for us to get to know each other."

"You asked her?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "And she said yes without too much thought, so I guess it's not like she hates me or anything."

"She doesn't hate you, she's just that kind of person. Nick's really open, Warrick's smooth and a little mysterious, and Sara's the blocked one. But once she lets you in you'll get along great."

"I guess we'll find out tonight."


	11. American Domesticated Cats vs Egyptian D...

         "That is the funniest thing I've ever heard about Greg," Jilaine laughed over a margarita in a Vegas nightclub across a table from Sara.

         "But it gets better," Sara said through her own laughter.  "Then he falls, and he lands on Grissom."

         "Oh no!"

         "Grissom was like, 'Greg, is something wrong with your equilibrium?'" she said in a perfect impression, managing not to laugh just long enough to get the words out.  "Greg was so embarrassed he didn't come out of the lab the rest of the day."

         "He's never going to live that one down."

         "No way, none of us will let him."  Sara took a sip of her drink and let out another laugh.  "He's definitely amusing."

         "Oh God, I know."  Jilaine paused and let a smile cross her face.  "He's great though."

         "He is.  He's a genuine guy, and I love him to death, but I don't know how you deal with it.  It takes a strong woman to handle him."

         "He does like to be handled," Jilaine grinned and the girls cracked up again.  "I am so glad we did this."

         "So am I," Sara nodded.  "You really love Greg, don't you?"

         "I don't know.  I mean, I do, but it's so early and so fast.  I just met him on Monday and I haven't spent a night without him since.  But it's only Saturday.  It's not like me to let something like this happen.  I'm such a levelheaded person.  I really just can't stop it though."  She smiled and added, "I don't want to."

         "He's definitely one of the good ones."  Sara grinned with her next thought.  "But what the hell is with his hair?"

         "I love his hair!" Jilaine laughed.  "It's adorable!"

         "Does he even do anything to it in the morning or does he just wake up like that?"

         "You know what?" she answered with a grin and leaned over the table.  "After he gets out of the shower, he gels it and then blow dries it."

         "You have got to be joking!"

         "No way.  I guess his hair would qualify as an organized mess.  It makes me sick though, because it still only takes him five minutes."

         "Males," Sara scoffed.  "Actually, I would bet money that Warrick spends an hour getting ready for work everyday."

         "I wouldn't doubt it."

         An hour or so later, Jilaine and Sara headed their separate ways, a new friendship formed.  Jilaine pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward her apartment building, but with an afterthought pulled in a gas station and turned around.  She was letting herself in Greg's apartment minutes later.

         "Greg?" she called as she walked in and looked around.  All of the lights were off, so she guessed he was in bed already and wandered to the bedroom.  "Greg?" she asked again softly and climbed onto the bed in the dark, but he wasn't there.  She sat up and looked around for a minute, trying to figure out where the hell he could be, and gave up and drove back to her apartment.  When she opened the door, Greg was sitting on her couch watching Animal Planet.

         "Did you know that although American domesticated cats have evolved from the Egyptian, their eye shape has generally remained the same?" he asked with a crooked grin.

         "That's fascinating," she said overenthusiastically as she kicked her shoes off.  "Tell me more!"

         "Well, black cats are evil," he said and held up his fingers in the form of a cross.

         "They are not," she laughed and plopped herself down next to him, immediately fitting into his arms.  "How long have you been waiting?"

         "An hour or so.  I went home and took a shower and all that fun stuff first.  How'd it go?"

         "Surprisingly well.  What's with you and the buzz saw?" Jilaine grinned.

         "She told you the buzz saw story?!  I was hoping you wouldn't hear that one."

         "I thought it was cute."  

         "You would.  You think everything I do is cute."

         "Not everything," she defended.  "Just…most things."

         "Mmhmm.  You know you want me."

         "So?  It would be pretty stupid to be spending all this time together if I didn't."

         "Very true."

         "So smart for a Cali boy," she teased.

         "So worldly for a Wisconsin girl," Greg replied.  "I'm glad you guys got along though."

         "Yeah, me too.  She's great.  And she has good taste in clubs.  Always a bonus."  She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at the television.  "Cute cat."

         "Yeah, he is cute."  They watched the fluffy calico kitty play with a ball of yarn while the narrator explained cat reflexes.  "We should get a cat."

         "We should?"

         "Yeah.  I've always wanted a cat."

         "Then let's go get a cat.  Tomorrow before work."

         "Okay.  Where will we leave him?"

         "Or her," Jilaine teased.  "I don't know, I guess we could have joint custody.  We stay together every night anyway, so we could just bring the cat to wherever we were."

         "Or we could move in together."

         "…Or that."

         "You would?" he asked and looked down at her.  She thought for a second before answering.

         "Yeah.  I'm still not completely settled in here, so it wouldn't be that big of a deal to move again."

         "But I mean, you would move in with me?"

         "Who else would I move in with, Warrick?" she asked with a tiny grin.

         "No, no one else, hopefully.  No other guys, anyway."  He placed a kiss on her temple and snuggled his body against hers until they were both comfortable and fit together.  "Should we wait on the cat until we're situated?"

         "That would probably be the smart thing to do.  It would be easier for us and easier on the kitty."

         "What will we name our cat?" he asked and watched a different kitty play on the television.

         "I don't know, depends on what it looks like and everything.  Something cute."

         "Fluffy.  Or Mittens.  I always thought Mittens was a cute name for a cat."

         "I had a cat named Mittens when I was little."

         "See?" he grinned.  "Cute, wasn't it."

         "Whatever it is, it will be cute, I'm sure.  If you have anything to do with it."  


End file.
